I need you, John
by norwasiclincallysane
Summary: Majorly in Sherlock's perspective, Sherlock tries to confess his love to John, but to be honest, it was harder than he had thought. "He was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot but who cares..it was Sherlock."


"All these bloody idiots, and their idiotic cases, I can't handle this, John! These, so called "clients" are wasting my precious time!" Scolded one angry Sherlock, he hated not having a case and everyone knew it, but no crime or any sort of case had emerged except for kids who needs help finding their lost pets and what not. John looks at the frustrated Sherlock and tries his best to sympathize, "Sherlock, just calm down, we'll get a case, you just need to wait, patience is key, ya'know." Sherlock, calmed down immediately in his head, but he couldn't go down so easily or John would suspect that at just the sound of his voice trying to calm him made him at ease, he tried pushing the thought of John's cooling breath against his neck but he couldn't shake the thought. So he pulled his wits together and stormed off to his room, his dressing gown flailing behind him as he cursed under his breath, mumbling, "Bloody criminals, bloody cases, curse them all.."

As Sherlock went mournfully into his room, his thoughts overwhelmed his brain, he couldn't get John, innocent John, out of his mind, the way he acted towards him, Sherlock, the maniac, was falling. He couldn't believe himself, he was sitting here on his bed staring out his window into the dark night sky thinking about, of all people, John... This was unnecessary, un-called for really, although he put on an act so no one would see the true Sherlock, the one that cared all along for John. Sherlock took in a deep breath, John, the ex-military doctor, the one with a hardened heart and stone cold, brown eyes, the eyes that had pulled him in in the first place in the lab. The way John liked to dart his eyes from one thing to another not caring to stop and think about what he was particularly looking at, just quick glimpses, but certain things John stared at, things like the way he read and re-read columns in the newspaper, or if he was thinking he would stare into nothing-ness until he had figured his mind out, and sometimes, Sherlock, would catch John staring at him, his lips to be exact, and when he caught him, he quickly moved his eyes down Sherlock's slender face and neck then down his shoulders in one quick movement until he would be staring at the floor like nothing happened.

The thought that John could ever think about him the way he dreamed and thought about John crossed his mind a couple of times but it never actually stayed and made Sherlock contemplate he was pushed it out before he could think intently on it, always assuming that John had no sort of feelings for him, because he was Sherlock, and Sherlock was a maniac who had a life that consisted of reading peoples body language and knowing things he was never supposed to know, but John was different, he knew John, but he didn't "know" him. Or did he? He sat quietly on his bed, with his stippled hands calmly pressed against his chin, his index fingers brushing his mouth as he contemplated all the things running through his head, and there were a lot, but mostly...sweet John...

John sighed as he flipped off the lamp light and grudgingly climbed the old, rickety stairs until he reached his room, he pushed open the door and toed his shoes off, he quickly changed into pyjamas and slide into bed. He lie there tossing and turning over and over, not only in his bed but in his mind, his thoughts, he couldn't knack the gnawing sensation in the pit of his stomach, he hated when Sherlock was like this, so bloody difficult to work with. He sighed and pulled the comforter over his head and soon after had fallen asleep, thankfully.

Sherlock rose early, as his normality presumed, he walked to the bathroom and showered, dressed, and walked into the parlor, he sat down on that familiar couch, the buttons in his purple button up practically begging to be opened. He placed his elbows on his knees and stippled his hands and stared off into oblivion, his arm flexed and that made the shirt worse. He stayed like this, thinking, until John came down and made coffee and then Sherlock had to look, he glanced over to John who had a beige jumper on over a regular tee shirt, he had apparently already showered because you could intensely smell his soap that he used, Sherlock inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, all Sherlock could think about was: bliss. John poured a cup of coffee and walked into the parlor sitting across from Sherlock, he sat back and shifted until he was comfortable and took a small sip of coffee. Sherlock jumped up, exclaiming, "I'm going for a walk, I'll be back." John nearly choked on his coffee, he regained his composure and nodded softly at Sherlock. He slide his arms into that familiar coat and pulled up the collar, he briskly walked out and down the stairs quickly opening the door into the cool November air, taking a deep breath to clear his head as he walked slowly towards the curb and flagged down a cab to Lestrade's office.

John finished his cup of coffee slowly, examining his brain, going through all of his memories of Sherlock, that glorious man, he couldn't keep his eyes and mind off of him, it was getting ridiculous how much that one man could enter his thoughts on a daily routine, he was like a teenage girl and her first love. So much excitement in one girl, he couldn't stand that he was comparing himself to a teenage girl, but all he could think about was Sherlock and how calm and centered he seemed this morning, so calm, unlike last night with his little hissy fit, although John didn't mind this ti was painful to watch Sherlock be so angry, and over what? A case. It was so amusing to him how Sherlock's emotions are so easily detected from the way he acts towards the "human" world. John found Sherlock's emotions adorably amusing, from the way he stippled his hands to way he sat, it was obvious Sherlock was squirming and being drove up the walls but over not having a case? This was new for Sherlock..Sherlock..the name it rolls off your tongue like a tender whisper but has so much passion behind it you can't help but be calmed but terrified at the same time, afraid of what to think about, who to think about, what person possesses the name "Sherlock"? A shiver ran down John's spine remembering his face, blissfully indulging in his face was interrupted than by, none other, Mycroft. Could he not leave him alone for a day? It was always his phone ringing with worried text messages about his brother, how he was doing, what he was doing at the moment, John loved talking about Sherlock, but this was torture. John inhaled short breaths before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone, but shocked when he saw there was a message from Sherlock in between all those Mycroft messages. John's eyes fluttered across the screen as he read Sherlock's message.

_Gone shopping, something I never do. Be back soon. Don't hurt yourself. -SH_

John chuckled at the message, imagining Sherlock having gone shopping for once in the whole year they have known each other. He stands up and go sets his mug on the table then returning to the parlor where he sat updating his blog until Sherlock arrived at the flat with a couple of bags and some Chinese food, John was famished he blessed Sherlock thoughtfulness, and stood, stretching.

After him and John had eaten. Cleaned up their mess, and John out away groceries, Sherlock sat on the couch running his eyes across his laptop reading past criminal case reports, he was bored and his violin didn't seem pleasing to the eye at the moment, he sighed and caught John looking up from his paper at him. He smirked and John shook his head going back to his reading, who knew how long this would go one before they actually got a case. Just then the door buzzed and Sherlock's mouth turned into a grin, seemed they wouldn't have to wait long now. Ms. Hudson opened the door and let the short, small, middle-aged, woman in, she walked quietly up the stairs and walked into the door, as soon as Sherlock laid his eyes on her his grinned quickly faded and he cursed under his breath. There at the door stood John's girlfriend, bloody hell, apparently because there was no case it was alright for John to go back to dating his girlfriend. John set down his paper and rose, he walked to the door and hugged her, kissed her cheek and while pulling on his coat turned towards Sherlock.

"I'll be out a little late tonight, Sherlock."

Sherlock mumbled under his breath. Bloody hell. He nodded and went back to his computer screen illuminating his face.

"Sherlock, are you alright?"

He waved his hand for him to go on, and John sighed, he walked out the door and down the stairs with her right behind him, he shuts the door behind her and they walk into the night sky. All Sherlock can do is run his hands over his face and sigh in exasperation, he lays his computer down and brings his knees close to his chest thinking about poor naïve John and how it angered him to see him with her. He clenches his fists and sighs knowing this will get him nowhere he lets go of his legs and lays back, stretching out onto the couch and thinking about John again, as if he didn't already, but he was always on his mind. Slowly, Sherlock drifts into a deep soothing sleep.

John unlocks the door and makes the climb up the stairs, he's exhausted and doesn't want to deal with Sherlock, but to his surprise when John walks in he sees Sherlock lying on the couch, asleep, he picks up a blanket and lays it over him, John sighs and toes his shoes off kicking them away, he pulls his jacket off and walks up the stairs into his rooms. He's so exhausted he doesn't even take his clothes off, he just falls into bed and rests his head on his pillow and drifts off, hoping everything with Sherlock was alright. God, he thought about the gloriousness of that man more than anything and it was starting to affect him, just moments before he moaned Sherlock's name instead, and that was never good in a relationship, especially when he didn't want to be shagging her anyway, it was just to please her and to top it off he moaned "Sherlock" instead..bloody hell..John sighs and turns over closing his eyes and falling into a sleep, praying he never woke up from this brilliant dream about Sherlock. He was pretty sure he was grinning like an idiot but who cares..it was Sherlock.

End of Chapter 1.


End file.
